


I'll Tell You My Sins And You Can Sharpen Your Knife

by geckoholic



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alley Sex, Arguing, Emotional Sex, Flexibility, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Power Dynamics, Shows Of Athleticism During Sex, Switching, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Sometimes Jason forgets that there's an old wound on Dick in a similar shape. That Jason left for a faraway land once before and didn't come back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arysteia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/gifts).



> I did cherry-picked from your letter a bit, so a few more things that I drew from, other than the tags above: reconciliation after an argument, size/strength difference, hauling/heaving a partner around, and emotional baggage.
> 
> Beta-read by beta_lactamase. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Take Me To Church" by Hozier.

There's a few upsides to their vigilante gig, and one of them is surely that whenever Jason doesn't find his boyfriend at home. That doesn't comes as a surprise, given that they're well into Saturday night and Gotham's vermin is celebrating a long weekend, all he has to do is find a police scanner and listen in until the word _Nightwing_ comes through the radio with a hint on his location. The rest is easy, some footwork, listening for a commotion nearby, and he walks right in on Dick wrapping up an interrupted robbery. 

He doesn't show himself yet; that would only cause confusion, and worse, distraction. Dick can handle himself. Wrangling two thugs and a store owner shouting in Russian is commonplace for them, and the police are already on their way. So Jason stays hidden, watching from a distance until two cops have made their belated entry onto the scene and whisked the thugs away, until the owner has disappeared back inside. Only then does he stroll onto the street. The corner is illuminated by the blue and green lights of the store's neon sign, and they make the colors of Dick's suit look all wrong. 

Jason tips a hand to his forehead, helmet held under his arm. 

“Hey,” he says, announcing himself, even though he's near-certain that Dick already spotted him. “Guess who's home.” 

The slow, graceless way Dick turns to face him confirms that suspicion – definitely not surprise, but the way he moves when he's pissed, so angry he needs to keep himself tightly coiled lest he immediately explodes at whoever caught his disdain. It’s funny; people consider Jason the volatile one, but Dick's got a temper too. It's harder to set him off, but not impossible, and apparently Jason achieved it. Not the first time that happened, and he files through their last encounter before he left for Finland with Roy, doesn't recall any indicators Dick was angry when he left. He's got to ride this out, then. No doubt Dick will inform him about the exact nature of his transgression very soon. 

“Hey,” Dick says back, considering him with a seething glare, head cocked to the side. “How was your trip?”

Jason shrugs, and ah, right to the point. “Cold. Unpleasant. We got arrested.” 

A smile makes the corners of Dick's mouth pull up, but there's nothing friendly to it. Looks more like a sneer, actually. “Is that why you've been gone for two weeks instead of one? And why you didn't bother giving any sign of life at all?” 

Well, yes and no. That was a complication, but they both know that a jail cell wouldn't hold Jason for longer than an hour, were he aiming to get out of it straight away. This was more complicated. They needed to stay, find evidence, build a case... He's pretty sure Dick's not going to be interested in intricate explanations, though. Not right now. 

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Not like they let you keep your cell phone in there, and I was fresh out of carrier pigeons.” 

Dick makes half a step towards him, then straightens, sets his jaw. “Don't try to be funny.” 

And Jason is so, so tempted to get angry right back. Angry is easy. He knows how to be angry. But he's tired and despite his mood, Dick's scolding, he's glad to be home again. Not home as in Gotham; home as in with Dick. 

He closes the distance between them in three long strides. 

“I didn't even know if you were still _alive_ ,” Dick says, evading him, and this time, it's definitely a sneer. That much closer, his upset is all but radiating off him, as if it were something physical, like he's giving off more body heat than normal. But it's not really anger, not all of it. There's more to this; his eyes are a little shiny, and oh, sometimes Jason forgets that there's an old wound on him in a similar shape. That Jason left for a faraway land once before and _didn't come back_. 

“I know,” Jason says with that in mind, voice lowered. “I'm sorry.” 

The apology isn't really about going away and falling into radio silence. It's about opening that old wound, however inevitable it sometimes is in their line of work. It's about imagining Dick back home, worried sick, not being able to help, assuming the worst and wondering if he'll have to attend another funeral. 

Jason steps closer still, running his hands down Dick's arms, then circling his wrists, but without any pressure at all. If Dick wanted to break the contact and evade him again, all he'd have to do is raise his arms and shake off the hold. 

But he doesn't.

“I know you are,” he says and threads their fingers together, pulls Jason closer, close enough that Jason can feel him take a deep breath, release of tension that must have been building up for days. And Jason dares thinking maybe it's going to be that easy, anger washed away by that familiar relief the person you love returned to your side unharmed, and staying angry in the face of that would feel silly. 

Dick walks them forward, against the back wall of the store, until Jason's shoulders hit stone. He leans in, tugs Jason's uniform down a little and seals his lips to Jason's neck, sucks a bruise into it, relentless, until Jason's skin stings and tingles under his mouth. The drop of saliva he leaves when he pulls back immediately cools in the night air and makes Jason shiver involuntarily. He glances up to meet Dick's eyes, cursing the fact that all he gets in their place are two passive white lenses. 

Slowly, Dick tugs Jason's uniform back into place. He smooths his fingers over the fabric, where the bruise will appear in a short while. 

“Turn around,” Dick demands, and this time the shiver that runs down Jason's spine has nothing to do with the cold. He knows he might have been let back in, but he's not forgiven yet. 

He swallows the urge to argue, be petulant, and turns, arms crossed against the wall, forehead resting against them. Pushes his ass against Dick's crotch, validated by the bulge that's already forming there, and decides that, if this is going to be his penalty, he'll accept it gladly. 

Dick's hands smooth down his sides next, under his jacket, weaving underneath fabric when they reach the waistband of his pants, which is also where the halves of his suit meet. Jason sucks in a breath when Dick pulls both the pants and the lower half of the suit down without ceremony, alongside with his briefs. His erection catches on the elastic of his underwear, causing Dick to help out and let it spring free. He gives it a quick tug, and Jason moans, suspecting there won't be much more of that tonight. 

Then Dick steps back and Jason stands there, bare-assed and rock hard, waiting while Dick rips open a package of lube, listening to the squelch as he empties it into his palms to warm it up. He waits until Dick rests one hand on the small of his back, almost soothing, while he sets upon fingering him open with the other. The movements are... not mechanical, exactly, but purposeful, finesse abandoned in favor of getting the job done quickly. It's not long before Jason hears the sound of plastic being ripped again, this time a condom wrapper. 

He closes his eyes and adjusts his stance, aiming for a little more stability, and then Dick is pushing against him, pushing inside. It burns at first, his body reluctant to adjust after the hurried prep, but he doesn't complain; his veins sing with the small edge of pain, and it makes this better, makes him feel more alive. Dick takes it slow, more patient than Jason ever cared to learn how to be, and he's whispering now, the noises from the busy streets on both ends of this alley drowning out the sound and keeping Jason from understanding the words. Time stretches around them, and it seems to been an age, an eternity, until Dick bottoms out, balls deep inside, and stills for a moment before he circles his hips and then draws back, fucks in again, setting a rhythm that is nothing short of punishing. The only thing that keeps Jason from moaning so loudly that half the neighborhood will hear them is the fact that he's sucking his lower lip between his teeth before the sound can spill out, biting down. He fucks back against Dick's thrusts as much as he's able without risking his equilibrium, and Dick's arm wraps around his waist, steadying him as well as keeping him passive – reminding him that he's not supposed to make any demands right now, that he'll get his release but on Dick's terms, at the exact time Dick chooses and not one second sooner. 

And he doesn't have to wait that long either, because Dick speeds up, reaching around to stroke Jason's cock on every thrust, then stops moving altogether as he comes. For a moment, he's stock-still, the hand around Jason's erection frozen, and then he starts stroking him in earnest, still buried deep inside, making Jason spill messily over his hand. 

He wipes the come off on the inside of Jason's jacket and pulls out, steps back before Jason can gather his wits, pull up his clothes and get decent and turn around. Dick stands there with his head cocked, a vindictive little smile pulling at his lips, and Jason realizes that his atonement is far from complete. 

“See you at home,” Dick says, and then he's gone, zipping out of the alleyway without waiting for reply or confirmation. 

 

*** 

 

Jason takes his time following him. He even briefly considers not following at all; he sure isn't afraid to weather an argument, should there be there one. But he's developed a bit of an allergy to getting ordered around and it doesn't always matter who gives said orders, and what seemed fun while his heart and cock did the thinking now has him slightly embarrassed. That's stupid, he knows – they're in a relationship and he can get plenty bossy himself, it's mutual, they're equals. He's standing in his own way, too much misplaced pride. Besides, he might be in even deeper trouble if he gives Dick the runaround now. 

He strolls up to Dick's building, lingers, eyes on the rectangle of what he knows is Dick's living room window. The light is on and he's going to be up there, waiting. Jason reminds himself how that's the whole reason for the tension between them tonight – Dick, _waiting_. 

The creaking old fire escape gives his arrival away, and the window is already open when he reaches Dick's floor. He finds Dick on the couch, still in costume but with the domino off, sitting cross-legged, head cocked in Jason's general direction. There's a couple condoms and a bottle of lube on the table in front of him, and yeah, well, Dick has never had a knack for subtlety. 

“I was starting to think you weren't gonna show,” he says, and his body language his relaxed, calmer, hands loosely resting in his lap. The clipped anger has vanished out of his voice and there's an amused quirk to his lips now. Everything about him says he had absolutely zero doubt Jason would show up. It irks Jason a little, that sometimes Dick knows him better than he knows himself, can read and predict him so effortlessly. Then again, Jason's not really made much of a secret of just how much he _wants_ him, so that might add to his transparency here. 

“You got yours,” Jason says, looking him dead in the eye, expression kept blank. “What kinda reunion would it be if I'd let you off the hook before I got mine?” 

Dick gives a quick, huffed laugh. “You, letting me off the hook? I'm not the one who – “ 

And if they have to rehash this, if Dick wants another verbal apology, he's shit out of luck. Once, as far as Jason is concerned, is plenty. Plus, he doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to argue. That's the last thing on his mind. He dives in, straddling Dick where he sits, his broader frame allowing him to do so even though it's anything but comfortable, and kisses him. There's no restraint in it whatsoever – it's rough, setting a tone, and Dick shifts underneath him, uncrossing his legs, then pushes up against him, grinding. Neither of them are likely to turn down a challenge, and Dick tugs at Jason's jacket, his suit, doesn't really get hold of anything but the message is clear. 

After a brief internal debate as to his priorities here – staying where he is to keep kissing, or getting up so they can get naked and move on to even more enjoyable activities – Jason gets up and starts shedding clothes where he stands. Dick follows his example with a self-satisfied grin, which is much easier to ignore when Jason can watch him shedding clothes, chest already flushed with arousal, nipples pebbled, the bulge of his erection clearly visible through his skin-tight suit. 

Barely half an hour since their first fuck of the night, and Jason wants him so desperately it might have just as well been _months_. He shoves his briefs down and gives himself a few quick pumps, impatient and damn near lightheaded with need. 

As soon as they're both naked, Jason hauls Dick close, takes a few seconds to appreciate the sensations of their cocks pressed up against each other, and then gets his hands underneath Dick's ass and lifts. Dick understands his meaning and, ever the practical thinker in this relationship, takes a second to grab the lube and condoms before he wraps his legs around Jason's waist and his arms around Jason's neck. He's not a lightweight – too much muscle for that, even though he's leaner than Jason himself – but for a few minutes Jason can take his weight just fine. He carries him the couple feet to the nearest wall and, when Dick's done finding his balance, removes one of his hands and gestures for the lube. 

Much like Dick earlier, Jason doesn't spare much time on teasing or technique, both of which would be hard to achieve in their current position anyway, and it's a few minutes at most before he's got two fingers in Dick and decides to up the ante and feel for his prostrate. Confirmation of success comes by the way of a low, drawn-out moan from Dick, and from there on it's mere moments before Dick's tapping his shoulder. 

The words “condom, here, come _on_ ” barely make it past his lips, because it's Jason's turn to be vicious and he twists his fingers just so, interrupting him on purpose, eliciting another guttural moan. 

Luckily for Dick, Jason is also rather impatient, and so he extracts his fingers – savoring the disappointed sound Dick makes, somewhere between a whimper and a complaint – and hurries to get the condom on himself. He hooks his arm underneath Dick's knee, shifts them into a more stable stand, and lines up. 

The noise Dick makes when he pushes in definitely carries some curse words, however unintelligible. Jason decides that reason enough to make him wait a few seconds longer after he's all he way inside, lean in and mouth at his neck, lick at his jaw, until Dick's rolling his hips, needy, urging him on. And if it's fast and hard he wants, well, yeah, Jason can do that. He sets a pace that has Dick rocking against the wall on every thrust, his fingernails digging into the flesh of Jason's shoulders in response, and the tight heat of him, the noises he makes, become overwhelming way earlier than usual. Jason's powerless to stave off his orgasm, too much of his strength and concentration rerouted to making sure Dick stays safely in place. He buries his face against Dick's collarbone and gives in, coming on another deep thrust. 

“Sorry,” he pants, further muffled since it's whispered into skin, and he's not sure Dick will even be able to decipher it. His arms are aching, and so is his lower back, and he nudges Dick to signal they may disentangle themselves. 

Once he's back on his own two feet, Dick wraps his arms around Jason's waist and draws him down for a kiss. He's grinning when they part, not displaying any of the disappointment Jason might expect at having been disrupted before he could find his own release. He shrugs in apology and removes the condom, ties it off, and drops it on top of their collective underwear. A quick glance downwards confirms that Dick's still rock-hard, and Jason reaches for him to at least help him out with a hand job. He's done for the night; he might get hard again if they give if a few minutes, but not enough to continue where they left off or, in all honestly, even last past the initial penetration. 

Dick catches his wrist and takes his hand, leading him towards the bed. Jason stares at him, shakes his head; his own cock hangs soft and spent between his legs. He doesn't expect Dick to step behind him, nor does he expect to hear a new condom wrapper tearing, the cap being pushed off the bottle of lube again. He groans when Dick's fingers rub along his perineum, hisses when they reach his hole, still sensitive from earlier. 

“This okay?” Dick breathes into his ear and Jason finds himself nodding. 

He lets himself be pulled onto the bed, pushed and nudged until he's on all fours, Dick behind him, fingering him open again. It's still good, still fun, even though his cock doesn't show interest beyond a few halfhearted twitches, and he lets out another groan when Dick pushes in, chest pressed to the full length of Jason's back, peppering kisses all along his neck and shoulder, which he's also using to brace himself and gain enough leverage for his thrusts. Jason closes his eyes and concentrates on the sensation, how it feels when Dick hauls back and drives in on a long, slow motion. On the feeling of skin against skin, on the noises Dick's still making, right against Jason's ear now. On the way he pauses, stills just for a second, and with the next thrust it's over, Dick bottoming out inside him as he comes. 

They stay like that, breathing together, for about as long as Jason can bear the strangeness of Dick's cock softening inside him. He reaches back to swat at him and Dick pulls out, the bed dipping when he stands, and Jason listens to his footfalls disappear into the bathroom while he lowers himself down and rests his face on his crossed arms, drifting. 

Dick returns with a wet washcloth which he tosses at Jason. He waits until Jason's done wiping himself down, and then carelessly deposits it on the bedside table. Jason refrains from pointing out how that's slightly gross; he's had his fair share of arguing for the night. 

He lies back down, on his back this time, and Dick seizes to opportunity to get comfortable against his side, one leg thrown over his hip and one arm over his chest, clinging like a spider monkey. 

“I really did miss you,” he says, sounding exhausted, sated, happy and so unbearably fond. _Loving._ The anger from maybe an hour ago, if that, seems forgotten, and Jason envies that in him, the ability to immediately move on from a grudge when he considers it resolved. Jason holds on to his anger like it's fuel, driving him forward, and he doesn't really know how to forgive and forget. 

Well. With most people he doesn't. 

He returns the embrace, drawing small circles onto the skin between Dick's shoulder blades with pads of two fingers. “I missed you too,” he says. “And you better believe that I have no intention of leaving any time soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com).


End file.
